


why do you call me angel?

by luminousbluebells



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Affectionate Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel/Dean Winchester One Shot, Dean Winchester is Getting Better at Feelings, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Newly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Overwhelmed Dean Winchester, Soft Castiel (Supernatural), Soft Castiel/Dean Winchester, s15e20 never happened, terms of endearment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28555320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminousbluebells/pseuds/luminousbluebells
Summary: Dean gets Castiel back from the Empty, but the his grace is sacrificed in the process. During a quiet moment in the bunker library a month later, Cas decides to speak up about a term of endearment Dean’s been using that makes him uneasy; the two end up having a conversation they probably should have had ages ago.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 19
Kudos: 150





	why do you call me angel?

**Author's Note:**

> bunker library, evening. about a month post-empty rescue.

The moment was innocuous enough. 

The bunker library was quiet, with Sam and Eileen out for a date night and Miracle sleeping peacefully down in Dean and Castiel’s room. The former angel and his hunter sat across from one another, the lamps washing their faces in warm light as they looked into some lore for a friend who’d called needing info. Dean was in his typical plaid flannel, t-shirt, and jeans; Cas was dressed comfortably as well, having developed a wardrobe of his own over the past few weeks (while the suit-tie-trenchcoat combo was still his favorite thing to wear, having it on 24/7 just wasn’t reasonable with his newly temperature-sensitive body). Tonight he wore a baby blue long sleeve Henley and some dark jeans cuffed at the ankle, an exceedingly enticing look that Dean was determined not to let distract him until they had found the information they needed. 

They’d been thumbing through pages of lore in comfortable silence for a few hours now, with only the infrequent comment on their findings and a few brief moments of smiling fondly at each other's concentrated expressions when the other wasn't looking. When Dean had asked Castiel to pass him a book from across the table, he’d done so, barely even looking up from his own reading. But the small gesture resulted in Dean’s use of an endearment that he had grown quite partial to.

“Thanks, angel.”

The hunter didn’t think twice about it, just opened up the book and started flipping through. But the term sparked the same unease in Castiel that it had ever since Dean had started using it about a week ago. 

Before he could think better of it, Cas sat up a little and broke the subtle, comforting contact between his calves and Dean’s under the table. Dean shifted a little too in response, his limbs unconsciously seeking out the warmth of the lost touch. 

“…Dean?” 

“Mmm?”

“Why do you call me that?”

Dean’s brow wrinkled as he looked up at Cas briefly. “Call you what? ‘Angel’?” he asked. “I mean, it seems kinda self-explanatory to me, babe.” He chuckled lightly and his eyes flicked back down to the book in front of him before widening in alarm and focusing back in on Castiel. “Wait, why? Do you not like it? If you don’t like it, I can stop—”

Cas cut off Dean’s endearing rambling before he could spiral any further. “No, no, Dean, it’s just…” he sighed. “I just don’t understand why you call me that. You know we have found nothing to indicate that my grace will ever return.” He looked down at his lap self-consciously. The sacrifice of Castiel’s grace in the process of rescuing him from the Empty wasn’t something either of them had really wanted to talk about in the past few weeks, everything still too raw, so they just… hadn’t. They’d gone about setting Cas up for a human life with as little actual discussion of it as possible. 

The joking light in Dean’s eyes from a moment ago had fully given way to sadness and concern now, and Cas already regretted bringing it up.

“I—yeah, Cas, I do know that,” Dean said, his voice quiet. He bit his lip, pensive and uncertain as he questioned for the first time the term which had seemed so natural to him. “But it’s… it’s not about…” He paused, giving up on searching for words at the moment and instead scrutinizing the former angel’s expression. 

“…Does it bother you, Cas?”

Castiel’s gaze fixed anywhere but on Dean and he shrugged almost imperceptibly. _Uh oh._ He even did his classic “I’m uncomfortable” rub at the back of his neck—yeah, Dean had seen far too much of that habit over the years not to have learned what it meant.

“Castiel.”

When he finally met Dean’s eyes, Cas was faced with a withering look that screamed _I ain’t buying it. Talk. Now._

Cas sighed heavily before venturing into the uncertain territory that he’d been so wary of. Better to just get it all out on the table now; the sooner they discussed it, the sooner they could dismiss the topic again. “I guess it just… reminds me of what I used to be able to do to protect you. To protect my family. And what I can’t do for you now,” he said honestly.

Dean rose from his seat and walked around the table to Castiel’s side. “I get that, man. I do,” he said. “But you don’t need to worry about protecting us anymore.” He pushed aside a large tome that lay on the corner of the table and hopped up to take its place, looking down at the former angel. “You’ve saved our asses plenty of times—now it’s our turn to protect you.” 

Never one to feel entirely comfortable accepting the support of others (he had Dean to thank for unintentionally teaching him that unfortunate trait), Cas shifted in his seat, pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves and looking anxiously downward. 

“Hey,” Dean said softly, reaching one hand to gently tilt his angel’s face back up towards his own. He would always feel privileged to see such vulnerability and trust in Castiel’s clear blue eyes. “It doesn’t matter to me that you don’t have your mojo anymore, babe. You’re not just some tool, okay? You’re family. I fell for you, not what you could do for us.” The hunter raised a tender hand to brush through the soft brown locks at Castiel’s hairline. Cas’s eyes fluttered closed at the delicate touch. 

“I’ll admit, it is a little freaky knowing that you’re as breakable as we are now,” Dean continued, smiling fondly at the contented look on Cas’s face. _This precious being, his to love and protect._ “I’m not used to having to worry so much about you when we’re out. I can’t just rely on you being able to walk off whatever they try ‘n’ hit you with anymore, you know?" 

Cas’s expression dropped, any muscles in his body that had relaxed tensing again. “I’m sorry, Dean. The last thing I want is to be a burden, or cause you additional worry.”

Dean startled, dropping his hand from Cas’s hair. “What? No,” he shook his head. “No no no. _Shit._ Cas, that’s not what I meant.” He got up again, restless in his frustration with himself for implying the exact opposite of what he really felt. He paced and rubbed at his neck, struggling to find the right words. “You’re _not_ a burden, okay? I-I know I’ve done some fucked up things… made you feel like you weren’t… worth my time, or-or whatever. That you were only worth having around if you were useful. I said a lot of really…" he huffed out a dark, humorless chuckle, “really fucked up shit. You know, things I wish I could take back.” Dean paused, leaning one hand on the table next to theirs and sighing deeply. His eyes locked onto Castiel’s again. “I’m so sorry, Cas. I don’t know if I can ever make up for all that.”

“It’s all right, Dean,” Cas replied softly. _So sympathetic, as always._

“No, Cas, it’s not. You never deserved any of that crap from me. Or from anyone. You know, you told me that I’m not a… a ‘blunt instrument,’ or whatever? Yeah, well, you’re not either, okay?” Dean insisted, a touch of desperation seeping into his tone. “You have always been an amazing person. Even before you were technically even a-a-a _person,_ you were—” he exhaled harshly. His breath was coming a little quicker now, and his face felt a little too warm. “All you ever did was tell me how you believed in me, how–how I was stronger than I thought I was, how _my_ life was worth fighting for. Worth _saving._ And I was always such a fucking dick to you.” He swallowed hard and turned away, his dark train of thought rendering him unable to look Cas in the face any longer.

“Dean…”

Cas had a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, but he let it drift away as he took note of Dean’s body language. He had been getting better at talking about things, being honest about how he was feeling, but he was still practicing and he still grew overwhelmed quickly. Cas could see that happening now, as Dean’s face flushed lightly pink, his lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned more heavily into the hand he had planted on the table. 

The hunter dragged a hand roughly through his hair and looked reflexively towards his spot at their table for the beer or whiskey that surely would’ve been there just a month ago, but wasn’t now. Now that Dean had Cas back, had a _life_ to look forward to, he didn’t want it to end earlier than necessary for some stupid, avoidable reason like liver disease. He was making real progress; he’d learned some healthy coping strategies and was trying to use them. Dean's brow set determinedly and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes and focusing for a moment on the feeling of his boots pressing into the floor and letting it pull him back to the earth. 

Castiel’s heart swelled with love as he watched Dean take a moment to ground himself. He was so proud of him, of how far he’d already come. Cas waited patiently, a small smile on his face, until his hunter opened his eyes and turned to face him again before continuing.

“Dean, I forgive you,” Castiel said, voice ringing with clarity, eyes shining with truth. He rose from his seat, moving slowly to Dean’s side in the cautious manner of a person approaching a wounded animal. 

The hunter’s lip trembled. _Castiel. So damn beautiful._ He understood Dean so much better than he understood himself, knew him to his very soul. His perfect angel— _far, far too good for him._

“And I also know you, so I know what you’re thinking right now,” Cas continued, giving him a look. “You’re thinking you don’t deserve this, us, because of how you acted before. And that’s just not true. Yes, you did some hurtful things—but so did I. I am far from an innocent victim, Dean.” 

Dean swallowed hard, nodding minutely. 

“Now, we could spend the rest of our lives apologizing to one another for what we’ve said and done, trying to atone for our actions. But I think it’s safe to say we’d both take back every hurtful thing we’ve done to each other if we could. Do you agree?” Cas asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course,” Dean replied.

“Good,” Cas said, placing his hand comfortingly over Dean’s where it rested on the table’s edge. “So, maybe we should try to move past those things, give ourselves some of the same kind of forgiveness we’ve given to each other. For our own sakes. I’m not saying we shouldn’t talk about it, or pretend those things never happened—” 

“No, no. I get what you mean, yeah,” said Dean, looking at his boots. “We’ll have to tackle them one at a time. Otherwise, we’ll just talk ourselves in circles and never actually get anywhere. This cycle of guilt we’ve got going ain’t helping us.”

“Exactly.”

Dean looked down at their joined hands for a long moment. Cas looked too, taking a deep breath. The quiet _whoosh_ air from his exhale filled Dean’s ears in the otherwise silent library. 

Steeling himself, Dean whispered, “Do you regret it, Cas?”

The former angel’s brow crinkled in confusion. So Dean went on, quietly, hesitantly.

“Giving up your grace, to come back. Do you wish we hadn’t done it?”

Cas squeezed his hand tight. “ _No,_ Dean,” he assured him. “Not at all. I’m _glad_ we did it, and I would do it again. I would choose being with you over being an angel in an instant, every time. No matter what.”

An achingly powerful feeling of love and affection bloomed in Dean’s chest at those words, and he couldn’t resist cradling Castiel’s jaw and pulling him in for a firm kiss. But his concern persisted, and after a moment, Dean pulled back slightly, rubbing his thumb softly against Cas’s cheek before dropping his hand from his face. 

“But… do you miss it? I mean, that was who you were for so long. I know you took it pretty hard the first time you became human, too. So I wouldn’t blame you for, you know… wishing you had it back.”

Cas thought for a moment, his expression pensive. “I don’t know,” he said. “The power it gave me certainly was useful. You know I like being able to help, to contribute something.” 

Dean opened his mouth to protest before remembering the decision they’d just come to and closing it again. _Right._ Cas sighed, consciously steering away from his self-deprecating train of thought. 

“Anyway. My grace was a part of me, but I don’t think it was the defining part. I’d like to think I’m still… me, without it.” He flipped Dean’s hand so that his palm was facing up and began mindlessly tracing with his fingertip as he spoke. “You know, the parts of myself that I valued the most, even as an angel, were the human parts—the things I learned from you, Dean, the experiences you gave me. I put you back together, after hell… but really _you_ created _me._ Before I met you, being an angel was just my life. It wasn’t a choice, or even something I had really thought about for any length of time. I never questioned it.” Cas could hardly believe, standing here with Dean’s hand in his, that he had simply _existed_ for so long before finally starting to _live._

As he fell prey to the imperfect system of human memory (the brain just wasn’t made to hold so many thousand years of recollections), Castiel’s time as a mindless warrior of heaven had begun to blur into grayscale monotony in his mind—but he didn’t particularly mind it. Why should he concern himself with holding on to all that empty time when his mind could instead be filled with images like the pure, child-like joy that bloomed in Dean’s eyes whenever he showed Cas a movie he loved for the first time? Memories of sweet sensations like the soft brush of their lips the first time they’d kissed, or the rumbling vibrations of Dean’s sleepy mumbling against Cas’s skin in the mornings? Any tiny fragment of his time with Dean Winchester was more than worth losing a few thousand years of recollections of toeing the line and carrying out orders like a good little soldier. He was even grateful for the painful memories, the words and actions that had caused Dean and him so much suffering as they’d come to pass; their barbs had dulled over time, and he was learning to see them as testaments to their strength, their resilience, their dedication to one another.

Yes, he’d certainly changed.

“You and I both know that reckoning with one’s entire world view can be distressing, to say the least,” Cas continued. “But I don’t regret becoming aware of the coldness, the detachment that came with being an angel. As hard as it was learning to be human the first time, after the fall… when I got my grace back, I felt like part of me was missing. Where all the most intense emotions had been, there was just a big hole. Somehow, I was able to find them again—maybe that was thanks to the “crack in my chassis,” as some people have put it.” 

No matter how many years it had been since he’d learned to use the quote-y fingers correctly, Cas’s use of them always brought fond memories to the forefront of Dean’s mind and a smile to his face. 

“But my grace was like a muffler,” Cas explained. “As an angel, emotions were… harder to reach. I suppose it’s a testament to the strength of my love for you and our family that I was able to feel anything at all.”

Dean lifted Castiel’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “You and your damn big heart,” he said, smiling fondly.

“Anyway. Being human takes some getting used to, certainly. But it’s worth it.” Cas said. “…Why do you like calling me ‘angel,’ Dean?” he asked softly.

Dean sighed heavily, eyebrows raising then knitting together as he considered the question. He shook his head a little. “I never really thought about it, it just kinda came out of my mouth one day and… I dunno, babe, it felt right. But I guess… I guess it’s also kinda like reclaiming all those times when evil douchebags would call you my angel, you know? They said that kind of shit to us all the time, just to screw with us, since apparently everyone _except_ us could see how we were suffering in silence cause we couldn’t pull our heads out of our asses long enough to actually talk to each other.”

Cas huffed a chuckle at the ignorance and misfortune of their past selves before growing thoughtful. “Reclaiming,” the former angel said softly, nodding slowly. “I like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A glimmer of a smile tugged at the corners of Cas’s mouth as he looked at Dean, setting off the fluttering feeling of butterflies in the hunter’s stomach. After repressing the sensation for so long, he had come to love it; it reminded him that Cas was really here, that he’d really gotten him back, that they were actually getting their chance at _“happy.”_ He’d protect those goddamn butterflies at all costs.

Dean went on, the words coming a little more easily now. “You know, when I was a kid, my mom liked to say that angels were watching over me. So I had my own ideas in my head of what angels were like. You know, before I met you.”

Castiel nodded knowingly. “Of course. Most people do.”

“Right. So I always thought of angels as guardians. You know, loving. Strong. Loyal. Good-hearted.” He looked deep into Castiel’s eyes and spoke earnestly. “That’s you, Cas. Even without your wings. You are all of those things. You are exactly what I imagined an angel would be.”

Cas’s eyes glowed with the praise. “I still don’t play the harp, though,” he joked. “I seem to recall you mentioning that more than once.” 

“Okay, fine, so you’re _almost_ exactly how I imagined,” Dean laughed, drawing Cas closer. “Actually, you know what, babe? I think you’re kinda _better_ than I imagined.” He trailed a hand lightly down Cas’s back. “I never could have dreamed up an angel as pretty as you. Those eyes. That smile.” A playful, mischievous look grew in his eyes as his hand moved further down, just past the small of Castiel’s back. “This as—"

Cas took Dean’s face in both hands and cut him off by capturing his lips. Dean’s surprised noise was muffled as Cas laughed against his mouth; the sensation of it sparked a giddy feeling that spread throughout Dean’s whole body. After a few seconds their smiles softened, lips becoming more pliant and allowing them to deepen the kiss in the way they wanted to. Dean’s arms tightened where they lay wrapped around Cas’s waist, pulling their hips together. Castiel’s back arched as they kept exploring each other’s mouths. The warmth radiating from Dean’s body seeped through their clothes and into Cas’s own skin. He caressed Dean’s jaw and nipped gently at his bottom lip; Dean made a low noise in the back of his throat and continued with renewed fervor. Every touch of their lips was electric. Cas was becoming pleasantly dizzy from the onslaught of sensations and the quick, gasping breaths he was taking in the brief moments when their mouths were not connected. Finally, when his lungs started to burn just a little too much for comfort, Cas pulled away slightly, still close enough to feel Dean’s warm, panting exhalations on his face. 

“I think… I’m starting to see the appeal of the term,” Cas managed between heavy breaths. “Y-you can keep using it. If you like.” 

Dean backed up a little further so he could really look Cas in the eyes. His own were still blown wide with passion, but caution and caring ruled them now. “Are you sure? Cause if it makes you uncomfortable, like at all, I’ll stop. I’m serious. I’ve done enough goddamn damage already, and I will sure as hell not keep hurting you when there’s something I can do about it.”

“You don’t need to stop, Dean. Really,” Cas said, his breath evening out again. “I’d like to learn to see it the way you do. It just might take a little time.”

“Okay then,” Dean replied, capturing Castiel’s lips in another tender kiss, this one short and sweet. “Please just let me know if you change your mind, okay?” 

Cas gripped tighter to Dean’s biceps and nodded solemnly. “Of course, Dean.” 

Despite Castiel’s understanding, Dean swore to himself he that would be more considerate with his words in the future. What the two of them had was still new and fragile—a small, trembling newborn thing that needed to be cared for with gentle, loving hands. They both had some pretty deep wounds that were only just beginning to heal. Dean trusted with his whole heart that Castiel would treat even his most damaged parts with the pure-hearted reverence of a saint; the hunter resolved that he, too, would devote himself to caring for his angel’s with unconditional tenderness. He would spend every waking moment brushing butterfly-light kisses against all his hurt places. He would soothe still-aching scars with loving words and heartfelt affirmations. It didn’t matter how long it took; Dean intended to spend the rest of his life convincing his angel of the divine beauty of his brilliant, flawed, _human_ soul.

“Thank you for giving me so many chances to do this right, Cas,” Dean whispered, his hands trailing gently up and down Cas’s sides. “I promise, I’m gonna try every day to show you that you will always be _my_ angel, even without your wings.”

Cas’s eyes glimmered joyfully as he smiled wide, chuckling. “Wow, Dean. That was a pretty cheesy line, even for you.” 

“Oh, shut up. You loved it.”

“I did.”

Their lips connected once more. Any amount of time apart was too long.

“I love you so, _so_ much, Cas,” the hunter breathed.

“I love you too, Dean,” his angel replied.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think! comments make me very happy, and constructive criticism is more than welcome as this is my first deancas fic and I am still quite the novice when it comes to fic writing in general :)
> 
> (p.s. yeah it’s maybe a tad out of character... but sue me, I like a dean who has grown since getting cas back. and besides, after the finale, I think we can agree that even what’s technically “canon” is highly questionable.)


End file.
